


Chaos in the Commonwealth

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6075411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An agglomeration of the adventures of my Sole Survivor Sage. None of the chapters correspond with another; they follow no particular order. Major tags will be added, but for more specifics, see "Notes".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maybe we're both wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Sage and Deacon learn that truth is the destroyer and creator of worlds.

“Tell me,” Deacon says to Sage as they settle into a couch, “what you miss the most.” She stares at her hands, unsure of what he means.

“About what?” Part of her doesn’t want to talk, to ruin the moment. Talking makes the time slip away. And time is not something either of them have a surplus of.

“About the past. Before the world died.”

“What don’t I miss?” Sage laughs, sounding more bitter than she intended. He looks at her as if apologizing for bringing up a touchy subject. “I miss the laughter, the serenity, the beauty. I miss having dreams to follow. Now the only dream I have is to stay alive.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean by ‘dreams’. Aren’t they what you see when you fall asleep?”

“No, like goals you want to achieve that others perceive as improbable. He gives her a quizzical look, so she continues. “I dreamt of traveling the world. I’ve always wanted to walk under the Eiffel Tower at midnight.”

“I heard it wasn’t that great.”

“Oh, really? What’s wrong with it?”

“There’s a bug problem. Giant bugs this big,” he holds out his hands a foot apart, “are everywhere. They have an appetite for human flesh and if you get bit, you’ll turn into a, uh, slug! Those things are super gross. And slimy,” he shudders. Sage snorts, then laughs. She was appreciative of his humor, for once.

He used to make light of almost everything he told her, or anything she told him. It wasn’t necessarily his fault; he was afraid of becoming attached, scared of commitment. He had grown comfortable to people who wound up dead and it traumatized him. To know the person he had given his heart to would never again wake up next to him was torture. So he coped by joking.

Until he risked everything for her. Sage had been captured during a mission and he had spent days searching for her, even when he was told it was pointless. He promised himself to tell her the truth if—when—he found her.

And find her he did. She was on the brink of nonexistence when he reached her. He carried her back to HQ and kept telling her to stay alive, to hold on. However, he didn't make good on his promise; he had told her he would do this to any friend. He thought that their relationship would be tarnished if he confessed his true feelings.

“That does sounds awful,” she admits. “Speaking of bugs, did I ever tell you about the time I ate one?”

“That’s nasty. Did it taste good?”

“Oh, God, it was so gross,” she says, scrunching up her face in disgust. “That was the last time I ate Salisbury steak.” He chuckles.

“You should consider yourself lucky. Bugs are a delicacy in some countries.” Sage gags.

“I’d rather die than eat a bug,” she says.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t get to travel the world,” he teases. She glares at him playfully.

“You can be such a butt sometimes, you know that?” He smirks in response.

“You know you love it.” Sage makes a show of rolling her eyes. They fall into a comfortable silence, the weight of the world catching up to them. He sprawls out on the couch, trying to relax his lethargic body.

“Do you wish you could go back in time?” he asks, shattering the silence.

“Um...” The question hits her harder than the bombs did. _What’s with all of these personal questions?_ she wants to ask. She tries to formulate a comprehensible response. Does she want to see her family and friends? Of course. But the memories she has made in this new world take shape behind her eyes. “Yes, and no. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? I can’t go back.”

“It matters. To me.”

“Why?”

“It’s a way to get to know you better. We've been friends for a while, but I hardly know you. I'm supposed to be the one with the mysterious past but I've told you more than you've told me.”

“Okay, fine. If I was given the opportunity to turn back the clock, I don’t know if I would,” she says, tapping her hands on her knees. “I mean, I miss the simplicity. I never had to worry what breath would be my last. My survival depended on whether or not I got to the grocery store before it was filled with inconsiderate shoppers. When I was cold, I cranked up the thermostat.

“But this new life, it’s tragic and beautiful all at once. I’ve seen so many people die, but I’ve witnessed so many miracles. The people here are the realest I’ve ever met. Going back to my old life would feel wrong, like I was cheating. It’s always easier to give up than to go on. So, to answer your question: no, I wouldn’t go back. I couldn't lose you, Deacon, you mean the world to me.” It slipped out before she could stop it. This wasn't how she planned on telling him.

“You could be the next William Shakespeare,” he jokes, acting as though her last words meant nothing when ,in fact, they meant everything. He didn't mean to try and distance himself from her words, but he couldn't take it back now. Why not continue?“That speech is better than the entirety of Romeo and Juliet, that's for sure.”

“I mean the world to me, too,” he adds.

 _He doesn't care. Of course he doesn't._ Why couldn't she ever be happy? She wasn't a good person, nobody was, but she deserved to feel happy.

“For fuck’s sake, Deacon, I'm being serious,” she seethes, practically jumping off the couch. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she chides herself. She stalks off down the hall, Deacon trailing behind her.

“I’m sorry,” he calls out. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She stops walking but doesn’t turn around to face him.

 “Just leave me alone for a while, okay? I don't want to talk to you.”

“I want to talk you.”

“You had your chance,” she snaps.

“I know. I messed up, I'm sorry. But I do care about you. A lot.”

“Do you? I know you say you do, but do you mean it? Or are you just telling me what you think I want to hear?” It burns her throat hotter than a blue star to voice the doubt she had ever since he told her he trusted her more than anyone in the universe. She might be overreacting—she has the ability to be oversensitive when it comes to dealing with her emotions—but she couldn’t stand being the butt of the comic relief.

It was as if one thousand Deathclaws had ripped his heart out of his chest. Of course he cared; he cared more than his brain thought was possible. But expressing his feelings? That shit was hard.

If she were to turn around, she’d shatter into a million pieces.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe this whole relationship is one big fucking lie!” His voice grew louder with each word and Sage couldn’t tell if he was yelling at her or at himself. “Maybe I’ve been lying to myself.”

If she wouldn't believe him, then he'd lie, lie like the fate of the world was depending on dishonesty.

“Why can’t you just talk to me? Just tell me the _truth_.” She’s pleading, teetering on the edge of hysteria. He said he cared, but now he says he doesn't. She needed him to say he needed her, as long as it came from within.

Seconds passed as Deacon struggled with his emotions. He considers his options: the truth or a lie. If he said that, yes, he cares, everything would be fine. Until something disastrous occurred. What if he hurt her? Or she hurt him? So many things could go wrong. If he lies, she would be crushed, but neither of them would have to deal with heartbreak in the future.

“Could you turn around? I have an important announcement to make.” Sage complies. Fresh tears have stained her cheeks and her arms are crossed over chest. If she didn't look like she was about to stable him, she would be absolutely beautiful. Not that he didn't think she wasn't beautiful.

“I'm waiting,” she says tersely.

“I've lied to everyone about everything but if you can only believe one thing, believe this: I do care. I care so fucking much it scares me. After my wife died, I lost a part of me that I thought couldn't be replaced. I was careless; I didn't care what happened to me.

“Then you came along. The world grew less violent and I awoke from a deep sleep I hadn't realized I had been in.

“Care isn't even the right word, actually. It doesn't begin to express how I feel. Sage,” he pauses and closes the gap between them, “ I love you.”

Her mind reeled viciously as the three most intimate words registered in her brain. He loves me? Maybe she didn't hear him correctly; he must’ve been talking about his wife.

“I love you,” he repeats, trying to convince her. “I know you don't believe me, I understand why you wouldn't, but I'll do whatever it takes to convince you. I’ll tattoo it on my forehead, I’ll shout it from the rooftops.”

She starts crying for the billionth time this night. She's probably shed more tears than the populous of the Commonwealth in one day than they would their entire lives. “Why didn't you tell me sooner,” she sobs.

He closes the gap between them and holds her tight. Then he’s running his fingers through her hair, waiting for the waterworks to stop.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers.

“Don't be. I belonged telling you the truth instead of cowering behind my words. I'm sorry.”

“We’re both in the wrong. I shouldn't have behaved the way I did.”

He leans in and cups her face with his faces, tilts her head up so she can see into his eyes, and kisses her.

A thousand fireworks go off all at once. She forgets how to breathe the moment his lips meet hers. Her eyes are wide open, searching for nothing and everything.

His lips are chapped but all she can feel is her heart beating—or is it his?

Her lips remind him of the clouds on a rare, picturesque day. Kissing her was like a thunderstorm—electrifying yet serene. This is what heaven must be like.

She smells like home, familiarity. Not like death or pain, but like comfort.

He smells like a campfire, a scent that elicits old memories of s’mores and ghost stories.

His hands drift from her hair to her back as he tries to combine them into one person. Her hands run up and down his shirt like she's going to lose him if she stops moving.

 “I forgot to tell you something,” she murmurs into his neck once they pull away to catch their breath.

“Was it about how awesome I am?” She snorts. Punches him affectionately.

 “You must be a mind-reader, Deacon,” she grins. “But what I really want to tell you is this: I love you.From my head to my toes and with all of my heart. I wouldn't want to go back in time, not anymore, because I wouldn't have you.”

“I love you too,” he whispers. 


	2. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sage acts as if she's the only one allowed to feel sorry for herself and ends up hurting her friends.

Sage had only ever been with her husband. They met in high school and managed to stay together, even though they were always apart. College for her, military for him. Their schedules rarely coincided but their love for one another could not be suppressed by a few hundred miles. As a result, Sage assumed that she was straight. Everything changed when she encountered the sassy Diamond City reporter.

God, that girl was beautiful. Her eyes, her face, her personality. Everything about Piper pulled Sage in. Her sarcasm—although obnoxious at first—made the corners of Sage’s mouth turn up, no matter the mood. And man, oh man, was she a giant softie. She may seem like a scary reporter but she would do anything for the ones she loved. In all definitions of the word, Piper was perfect. But Sage would never tell Piper any of this; their lives were too entangled already.

When the two began traveling together, Sage had never thought anything of it. But after seeing how quickly a life could end, she was fearful of losing her friend. Piper had a little sister to look after and Sage couldn’t bare to think of what would happen if Nat lost her older sister. Besides, Piper deserves someone who isn’t damaged beyond repair. And Sage definitely fell into that category. After everything she had been through, it was a wonder that someone like Piper would even associate with someone like _her_.

Losing her husband felt like being buried alive. She couldn’t escape the memory of his death, the way he looked at her before he closed his eyes for the last time, how she sat there and watched, unable to do anything except pound her fists uselessly against the walls of her frozen prison. But it didn’t stop at her husband. No, those bastards who had put a bullet in the man she loved also stole her kid. _Her_ fucking child! A baby, an innocent life. Collectively, it felt as if Sage was always on the brink of death, only kept alive to be reminded of all she had lost in an hour. She didn’t allow herself to be happy, to experience joy. Why should she be allowed to laugh when her husband was dead, dead, dead? Which is why Sage was doing her damnedest to avoid Piper.

It wasn’t fair to the reporter, not at all, but the hurt that came with such distancing is nothing compared to the pain of dealing with Sage’s problems. Piper, however, made it her personal doing to understand why her friend was dodging her.

“Come on, Blue. Open up,” she yells, pounding on the door to the small house in the center of Diamond City that Sage had bought. “I know you’re in there.”

Why was she so goddamn persistent?

“The silent treatment, huh?” Piper laughs. She acts as though she’s talking to Nat, not to a woman a year or two older than her, and if the situation was under different circumstances, Sage might have even laughed herself. But she had to be harsh.

“I didn’t mean anything by calling you ‘cute’. Not that you aren’t cute, I just, um—Argh! Blue, open this door before I make a complete fool of myself.”

 _I can’t, I just can’t!_ Each knock on her door weakens her resistance but it stays locked. Just take the hint and go! Sage lets out an exasperated sigh as she struggles to drown out the pained voice of the reporter. Half of her brain was kicking herself in the ass for agreeing to Piper’s interview; the other side was begging her to be reasonable. _Shut up!_ she screams silently. To the voices in her head, to Piper, to everyone.

The knocking on her door stops abruptly and silence takes over. Sage is relieved and sad, grateful and regretful, at her friend’s—if Piper considered them friends—absence. Why did she hurt the ones she loved? And why did they hurt her?

***

Nick Valentine was never the one to pay visits to Sage and when he showed up on her doorstep the next morning, Sage knew she was in big trouble.

“Why did I think it was a good idea to give you a key to my house?” Sage groans as the detective half-drags her down the stairs to the couch. So much for beauty rest. He glares at her, yellow eyes intense.

“Look, I’ve known Piper for a long time, and I have never, ever seen her this upset. What are you doing, Sage?” He’s angry. He has a right to be. Piper might not be related to Nick in a normal way, but she was part of his family. And no one messed with his family, not even Sage.

Sage is royally fucked. Lying to Nick Valentine is not only impossible but hurtful as well. He had confided in her when he felt unworthy of the life he lived. He thought he was pretending to be human but Sage had convinced him that he was as human as anyone else—more, even, than others—despite being a synth.

“It’s none of your business, _Nick_ ,” she spits, going defensive. How dare he come in here and make her feel bad? He had no idea what she was going through and was in no place to judge.

“The hell it isn’t!” he growls. “You’re hurting a sweet reporter by acting like a child. I don’t know what your deal is, but you need to get your act together before you do something you’ll regret.”

His words are a punch to the gut. Reality comes crashing into her, aimed right at her heart. _Goddamnit, why was Nick always right?_

“You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. I know you’ve lost your husband and your son is missing, but you’re not the only one who’s lost someone. Piper’s dad was murdered but you don’t see her beating herself up over it, making other people feel like garbage, do you?”

The last part stings, burns, the back of her throat. She really did need to get over herself, to stop being so selfish. But doing and saying it were two totally different things. Just because she told herself to do it doesn’t mean she would go through with it.

Nick still wasn’t finished with his rant. “I get why you’re doing this—I went through the same process a while back—but you’ve gotta quit while you’re ahead. Destroying friendships because you feel as if you’re not deserving of them seems like a good idea at the moment but in the long run, it ain’t worth it the hurt.”

Fuck Nick and his stupid wisdom. Fuck him for being right, for being sensible. He hit the problem right where it hurts and it tore up Sage’s insides. She needs to take Nick’s advice and fix things immediately. Curse her for being so stubborn.

“I know,” she sighs. “I know.”

“Then why’re you doin’ it?” His voice is normal, soft, no longer harsh and critical.

“I wish I knew, Nick,” she confesses. “Sometimes, it feels as if the world is against me. Like I don’t have a right to be happy.” Her heavy heart lightens as she admits to Nick her darkest emotions, similar to how he confided in her.

“I gotta go talk to her,” she decides. Before it’s too late.

***

Piper sits on the sofa on the main floor of her and Nat’s home, cursing the stupid Vault Dweller who had stolen her heart. Leave it to her to fall for an estranged woman. Sage approaches Publik Occurrences with caution, nervous about confronting Piper. Nat stands outside, waving the latest edition like a flag.

“Hi, Nat. Is your, uh, sister available?” Her voice wavers slightly. She could take down a Behemoth with one arm broken but she couldn’t talk to Piper’s little sister. Great.

“She's busy,” Nat lies. This woman was the reason Piper was acting weird and Nat was not about to let her go and make it worse.

“Will you tell her that I was here, at least?” Sage shifts her weight, feeling awkward.

“Yeah, sure.” Her voice is slightly snarky and Sage wonders about the validity of her words.

Right as Sage turns away, the door opens and Piper appears. “Nat, who’re you talking...Oh.”

Her eyes land on Sage and she frowns. Her. She couldn't bother talking to her yesterday so what was she doing here? Right. Nick. She had told him about the fight—or whatever this thing was—but she didn't want him to intervene; she was just venting.

“ _You_ ,” she snarls. Laughs bitterly. “You have some nerve, Blue!”

A few residents hear her voice and discreetly listen in on the conversation. Sage freezes, wants to run, to stay; she doesn't know what to do.

“What's the matter, Blue? Cat got your tongue?” This was the one instance the reporter’s sarcasm made her stomach churn. Her tone is not helping either. Sage turns on her heel and walks toward Piper.

“I’m sorry,” Sage whispers, voice cracking. Tears gather in her eyes, her emotions escaping. “I'm sorry.”

Piper is shocked. She never expected strong, fearless Blue to cry. She almost regrets being angry, but not quite. It was unfair for Blue to treat her like this—they were friends, and friends stick together when things get tough. “You should be sorry. I don't know how you did things before the war—maybe this behavior was acceptable—but this is not how you treat your friends.”

“I know, I'm sorry. I—I screwed up, and I can't apologize enough. I owe you an explanation, that is if you can even stand to look at me,” she says, offering Piper a weak smile.

“I dunno, Blue. I have some pretty important things to do,” she shrugs.

“More important than me?” Sage teases, trying to steal a smile from the serious-faced reporter.

“Ha-ha, Blue. _Real_ funny. But I do have a life, in case you forgot. You can't string me along whenever you feel like it.”

“It won't take that long. Please?” She bats her eyes at Piper, pouting. That face was irresistibly cute; nobody could ‘no’ to it, not even a robot.

“Fine,” she concedes, “but let's take this inside. We have quite the crowd.”

Nat stays outside while the other two head into the home/newspaper publication. Piper sits on one side of the sofa, Sage on the other. After inhaling deeply, Sage tells her everything. Even her feelings for Piper are discussed. The heavy weight that had been dragging her down lightens with each word until it disappears.

“Wow, Blue, I had no idea.” Piper’s shocked. This Vault Dweller has been through hell and back but still wasn't finished kicking. What surprised her the most was definitely Blue’s crush on Piper. Why would Blue want to be with her? Blue was a goddess compared to the reporter. Beautiful smile, wide eyes, perfect hair.

They sit in comfortable silence, processing their conversation. Sage had let it all out, tears and emotions. A roller coaster ride with unexpected twists and turns.

“It's too bad you didn't tell me sooner, Blue. I might not have hooked up with Travis,” Piper states, breaking the quiet.

“What? Really?” She never pictured Travis to be the reporter’s type.

“Nah, I'm just playing with you,” she winks. “You've got some teasing to make up for, y’know?” Sage shakes her head, grinning.

“Good to know. So, do you want to go on a date? With me?” She curses herself for being so awkward, but Piper thinks it's cute.

“A date, huh? You're so old-school, Blue.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Depends on where you're taking me.”

“There's this wonderful robot who makes noodles. Not far from here. And then we could go to my house and watch the sunset.”

“Such a hopeless romantic thing to say. I'm in,” she grins.

“It’s a date, then. See you at 7:00.” Sage leaves, hopeful and nervous at once. She hadn't been on one in a long time, not since her husband passed. And even before that, there wasn't a lot of time for romance. But as long as she didn't pour her noodles all over the reporter, all would be well.


	3. How to Tell A Story, Deacon-Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sage finds herself knee-deep in Deacon's bullshit.

Taking Deacon with her to Vault 81 was, at first, the right choice. The residents wouldn’t have appreciated her bringing a ghoul, even if Hancock wasn’t feral. When she as she accepted Austin’s offer to give her a tour of the place, she realized how much of a disaster her visit was going to be. He told the poor kid ridiculous lies about his and Sage’s adventures in the Commonwealth after Austin had commented about leaving the vault when he was older.

“Did you really tame a Deathclaw?” Austin gasps, eyes wide. The kid stares at Deacon with such admiration that Sage feels bad on Deacon’s behalf.

“Mm-hmm,” he nods, smirking at Sage when she snorts loudly. She wonders how and, more importantly, why she puts up with his bullshit.

Deacon continues spinning fanciful tales for Austin but Sage is only half-listening. She’s more interested in the vault and its inhabitants. Everyone appears normal—no one was stuck in a freezer for two hundred and some odd years—and Sage can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. If Vault 111 operated like this, maybe her husband and son would be here.

“Can you please help me?” It takes Sage a moment to recognize the question was directed at her and even then she’s still unsure of who the voice belongs to. A little girl with hair as dark as the midnight sky. She stares up at Sage, concern visible on her face. It must have been her.

“Sorry,” Sage says sheepishly. “What was it you were talking about?” In her dream-like state, Sage had only heard half of the conversation, but she’s certain it involves a missing urn of ashes.

“My cat, Ashes, ran away. I need you to rescue him for me.” Okay, so maybe Sage hadn’t been paying as much attention as she assumed she did.

“You can count on us,” Deacon interjects before Sage can respond. Not that she was going to decline the girl’s request. He must’ve assumed she was still lost in her own world.

“If this is making you uncomfortable, we don’t have to stick around,” Deacon says to her as they return to the outside to search for Erin’s—or was it Emily’s?—cat. He is aware of the tragedy she experienced in a vault similar yet so unfamiliar to the one they had stumbled across.

“Is it that obvious?” Sage sighs. Her past is always haunting her, preventing her from moving on. She still loves her husband but grieving over him has yet to bring him back from the dead. The search for her son is at a standstill until she can brave the Glowing Sea once again to track down Virgil, the Super Mutant who was once human and part of the Institute. Her first expedition ended with her contracting a terrible degree of radiation sickness, due to a hole in her hazmat suit.

“Yeah. If looks could kill, half of the people in that vault would be dead ‘cause of your stare.”  
“Oh man,” she groans. Sage was certain she had kept her emotions in check. Hopefully they didn’t notice her accidental death glares and if they did she hopes no one was offended.

A loud yowl cuts off anything her companion said and a blurry gray object darts through Sage’s legs. A mutated housefly, the size of a small toddler, chases after it, failing to notice the two humans. Deacon swings at it with a broken branch and it drops to the ground, dazed but not yet dead. He finishes it off by stomping on it, despite Sage’s protest.

“You’re really lucky none of that got on my clothes,” Sage huffs, shaking her head in mild disgust. He grins in response, wiping the goo off of his face with his sleeve. The fluffy gray cat reappears and stares at Sage while meowing persistently.

“Hey, Ashes,” Sage coos as she rubs the cat behind its ears. “Time for you to go back home.”

The ball of gray fur takes off in the direction of the vault as if it understood Sage perfectly. She tries to keep up with it, but damn, the cat is fast and eventually her jog slows into a walk. The sun dips behind the clouds and Sage is grateful they found Ashes before the poisonous rain fell.

* * *

 “Ashes! You’re back!” Erin squeals excitedly before turning serious. “Don’t you ever run away again!” The small girl lifts the cat off the ground and hugs it tightly. Ashes does not share her owner’s enthusiasm but any attempt to escape Erin’s grasp is fruitless. Sage smiles at the girl before exiting.

Her growling stomach leads her and Deacon to the cafeteria where the cook, Maria Summerset, has a fresh pot of vegetable soup going. It smells heavenly, the way food should smell. After paying for their meal, Sage takes a seat away from all residents. The metal bench is as uncomfortable as the one she used to sit on during grade school. Back then, her biggest concern was passing math class. How she missed her childhood innocence.

“Sorry to interrupt, but are you the outsider?” A woman, not much older than Sage, asks as Deacon arrives at the table. Austin pointed her out on his tour but her name escapes Sage’s memory.

“Yup. Name’s Sage,” she replies, sticking her hand out for the other girl to shake. The Pre-War greeting is lost the stranger who frowns at the foreign gesture. Sage awkwardly returns her hand to her side, feeling old.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Katy Pinn, the teacher here at Vault 81. The kids and I wanted to know if you’d be interested in sharing some of your experiences with the class. If you aren’t too busy, of course.”

“I would love to. What time works best?”

“Tomorrow morning, after nine o’clock.”

“I’ll be there,” Sage promises. When Katy walks away, Sage adds, “You are so not invited to storytime, Deacon.”

“Jealous I’ll steal your thunder?” he teases, giving her his trademark shit-eating grin.

“Whatever you say,” she rolls her eyes and shoves him playfully. 

* * *

 “Tell us the story of how you trained a pet Deathclaw to follow you around!” Austin shouts after Miss Katy introduces the two outsiders to the class. Sage shakes her head and bites back an exasperated sigh. The class is intrigued by Austin’s suggestion and all sets of eyes swivel toward the front of the classroom.

“Be serious, Austin,” the teacher scolds.

“I am,” he whines. “Just ask him.” He points to Deacon who, for some ridiculous reason, decided to wear his sunglasses. Miss Katy gives the man a skeptical glance.

“It’s true,” Deacon agrees. “His name was Fluffy but he wasn’t your regular Deathclaw. No, Fluffy was a glowing Deathclaw. The best night light money could buy.” The children hold on to his every word, enraptured by the lies. Katy is the only one who doesn’t fall victim to Deacon’s fictional account. Sage snorts loudly but Deacon is not deterred in the slightest.

“But one morning, I awoke to find Fluffy had run away,” Deacon continues, “I searched for him for weeks but eventually gave up. I was so upset so I decided to try my hand at mole rat farming.”

_Mole rat farming? Pet Deathclaws? Where in the hell did he get these wacky ideas from?_ Sage’s expression remains indifferent until he gets to the part about the ‘rat revolution’.

“I knew that was something evil in their eyes but I always dismissed it at cuteness until the uprising.” Sage could not believe Deacon hadn’t cracked a single smile since he started talking. He would make a great poker player. “As I went out to feed them, they cornered me and locked me into the cage I had kept them in. I would have starved to death if wasn’t for my knight in shining armor, Sage.” _Oh great_. It was always so awkward when he roped her into his stories. Her imagination was duller than a two-hundred-year-old-knife.

“What happened to the mole rats?” calls a kid from the back.

“We had to show ‘em who the boss is, so we made them into dinner. If I never see a mole rat again, it’ll be too soon,” Deacon shudders. Sage’s cheeks are sore from holding back her laughter and she’s thankful for Miss Katy’s polite dismissal.

“Class, is there anything you'd like to tell our guests?” Sage and Deacon say their goodbyes as Katy tries to talk over them.

“Thank you,” the class sings in unison. Sage shoots Katy an apologetic smile when the kids express their wishes to adventure out in the Commonwealth.

“You better pray those kids don’t go out and get themselves hurt because of your bullshit,” Sage grumbles.

“You’re just mad because I’m a better storyteller than you. Your stories would have put the class to sleep,” he adds.

“Shut up,” she mutters, punching him in the shoulder. “At least my stories are true.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, repeating the same line she used on him the previous day.

“I don’t know why I put up with you, Deacon.”

“‘Cause I’m so damn charming. Not to mention good-looking. Oh, yeah, I’m also super funny. What’s not to love?”

“Right,” she snorts. “But don’t forget about egotistical.”

Deacon just laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who my favorite companion is? (Hint: It's totally not Deacon). Feedback is appreciated!


End file.
